Midnight
by irishais
Summary: Quistis, a little tipsy from Selphie's Winter Festival, asks Seifer about his New Year's resolutions. Seiftis.


_A/N: Happy holidays to all of my readers, and good luck with all of your resolutions for 2007! _

_irishais_

**_Midnight_**

Selphie had planned the Winter Festival down to the last detail, Quistis appreciated as she sipped from an elegant champagne flute. The drink wasn't half bad, really–probably imported in from Esthar, where quality was everything. She surveyed the dance floor and wondered if she was drunk enough to actually brave it. Quick check: was she still standing? The answer was yes.

_Not yet_.

Seifer lounged in a chair next to her, looking the dashing rogue in his tuxedo with the bow tie long gone and the shirt's top button undone. The only thing that saved it from looking like he had dragged it out of his closet was because Quistis had pressed it herself; she had never, to her knowledge, seen Seifer actually _clean_ anything, much less iron. It made her wonder who had done his laundry when he was still a student. Fujin, probably.

_Shame. He could have come to class naked._

"Wanna dance?" The question was idle, bored. He didn't really care one way or another; it was just something to do to pass the time. Seifer had never been fond of Garden's events, especially when Selphie Tilmitt was at the helm. Quistis smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle in the front of her long blue dress–Rinoa's doing; Quistis had fully planned on attending in her Instructor's uniform– and downed the last of her drink.

"Why not." She took Seifer's proffered arm, ignoring the still-heartbroken faces of several Trepies as they joined the scattering of couples on the expanse of dance floor. Briefly, Quistis wondered if this would be a replay of Squall's first dance with Rinoa, and after a second, she needn't have worried.

"You're not a bad dancer," Quistis remarked, more analytical than surprised. He smirked.

"Disappointed?" he murmured, resting his cheek against the side of her head and leading her around in time to the slow music. Seifer's hand rested loosely on her waist, the touch just enough to guide her and more than enough to make Quistis wish she had drank just a little more.

She shrugged lightly. "You could be worse. You haven't stepped on my feet yet." Quistis had always had a feeling he would be at least a half-decent dancer; his grace in the wee hours of the morning as he did a few practice lunges with Hyperion were more than enough evidence, brow knitted in concentration as he moved fluidly. He usually didn't know that she was watching, figured she was still asleep.

Quistis rested her head against his shoulder, the alcohol warm in her veins. _No monster attacks, no missions, nothing to worry about. _The thought was almost foreign in her mind–Quistis Trepe very rarely relaxed.

_It's a nice night._

--

It was snowing by the time Quistis and Seifer bid their farewells to Selphie's shindig, and headed back for the dormitory. Unconsciously, Seifer shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it over Quistis's shoulders.

"What is it with women and those stupid wraps anyway?" he commented as the heavy fabric settled over her shoulder, and Quistis had to laugh. She slid the silky offender out from underneath the coat, and wrapped it rather dashingly around Seifer's neck. He scowled at her briefly, until she stood on her toes to kiss the tip of his nose. "You've had too much to drink," he informed her with a smile.

"I'm perfectly sober," Quistis retorted. "Cold, but sober." She nearly broke her ankle in the silly heels that Rinoa had also pressed on her as they descended the stairs, and Seifer caught her before she ended up face first in the snow.

"Right," he chuckled. "Whatever you say, Instructor." He glanced up at the large clock in the center of the courtyard. "It's almost midnight. We're gonna miss Tilmitt's precious toast."

"We'll survive." Quistis checked the time as well. Two minutes. "What's your resolution?" she asked impulsively.

"What?"

She shrugged. "You know, New Year's resolution? Some people make those." Seifer raised his hands, palms up. "C'mon, you've got to have _something_."

He paused by the clock tower. "I dunno. Be rich, or something." Quistis punched him lightly in the arm. "Hyne, what'd I say?"

"That's what everyone says. That, and lose weight. You've got to have something else." Quistis grinned–she couldn't quite remember how many glasses of champagne she had drank.

"Well...I promise to not take over the world this year. Is that a good one?" He laughed; Quistis was happy to see that he could laugh about that...it had been a _long_ year. "I don't know. What's yours?"

She tugged the jacket around her. "To be a better Instructor," Quistis said finally.

"You're a great Instructor," he informed her. "Just show a little more cleavage in class..." Quistis aimed to punch him again, but Seifer grabbed her hand and pulled her in the direction of the dorms. "Let's go inside. It's too cold to fight out here," he said pointedly, and Quistis had to agree. She looked back over her shoulder at the clock tower. Twenty seconds...She stopped Seifer as they reached the entrances to the dorm, and he gave her a look that clearly read, _What?_

The clock struck midnight, and a loud cheer went up from inside the ballroom, the sound able to be heard all the way across campus.

Quistis grabbed hold of his shirt, pulled his head down to her level, and kissed him. "Let's do better this year," she whispered when the kiss broke and the twelfth chime died away. Seifer grinned wolfishly.

"I'll be on my best behavior," he responded, and pulled her back to him for another kiss. "Happy New Year, Quis."

"Happy New Year, Seifer. Let's go inside now, okay? It's _cold_."

"Hyne...you'd think that once you Junctioned an Ice GF..." he remarked wryly.

"Seifer?"

"Yeah?"

"You're already breaking our resolution."

"...Damn. Better luck next year?" Seifer shrugged and held the door open for her.

It was going to be an interesting year.


End file.
